Mahomet
by mkaz
Summary: Set between "The Plateau" and "Do Shapeshifters Dream." In the parallel universe, Olivia investigates the resurrection of a girl who was part of a suicide cult. Meanwhile, Fauxlivia repays a debt under the pretext of visiting Rachel and Ella in Chicago.
1. A Note from the Author

Hello everyone!

First things first: I don't own Fringe or its core characters. Non-canonical characters are my own creation.

Secondly, this story takes place in both universes. Odd numbered chapters take place primarily in the parallel ("red") universe. Even numbered chapters take place in the prime ("blue") universe.

In any instances where one chapter contains plot from both universes, the following will denote the shift, since I can't visually depict the shift the way the show does:

-10^10^16 -

For anyone who's curious, the string above represents Andrei Linde and Vitaly Vanchurin's 2009 theory on the number of possible universes existing in the multiverse that the human brain could distinguish.

A pretty big honking number. That means _Fringe_ could be on the air forever, just to cover all of those universes! Yay!

Happy reading! Reviews are most appreciated and cherished.

MKaz


	2. Chapter 1

"Good evening, everyone.

I know you must be nervous. You must know that I am too. Even though I know exactly what's going to happen. Even though I know everything will be all right. If I, knowing what I know, feel the anxiety of what we're about to do, I can't expect you to deny your natural feelings.

The only thing I can do now, is to remind you once more of the story of our guide and protector, the great Roland Barrett. How his will was so strong, so fixated, that he freed himself of the amber prison. How he refused to be coerced by the lies that society, the police, the government – all agents of the devil – tried to feed him. And what is that lie again? Tell me."

The dark man's gazed turned to a young girl sitting on the floor with her brothers and sisters. She was one of the newer members of their family, but she had absorbed their teachings quickly. Her doe eyes grew larger as the attention of their group fell on her. She opened her mouth, mumbling the words, until finally sound emerged from her throat and she responded, "That what is happening to our world is natural. That science can explain it."

"Precisely! It's important to hold on to the truth…"

As Raymond Berlin continued his speech to the family, Jamila sank back into her own thoughts after answering his question. She was anxious; truth be told, she was terrified. But sitting on the floor with the others, the men and women she'd come to care for like her blood family, gave her a sense of purpose and camaraderie that she'd been searching for for a long time. She would never tell them, but despite her convictions that what she was about to do was right, there were sharp needles of doubt piercing her inside. There was a part of her that wanted to run.

And then, just like that, Raymond's speech was over and his attendants were preparing their "gateway." In their holy book, a gateway was used to take the faithful away from the evils of the world and bring them to paradise. It required giving up their mortal bodies and their material possessions, but the reward was far more precious than anything on earth.

The white-robed attendants poured out Styrofoam cups of some sort of drink, and were now traveling to each row of people, handing them the cups. It was already known that no one was to take a drink until every got their own cup. Jamila could feel her heart roaring in her ears as the attendant for her section made her way up to her row. The attendant handed a cup to their row leader, who passed them down to the very end of their row until everyone had a cup.

Jamila accepted hers with a slightly shaky hand. She looked down into the soft white cup at the dark blue liquid floating inside. She held it subtley to her nose and inhaled. It smelled like berries.

"No pain," an elderly lady named Julia whispered to her. "That's Najarro's promise to us. Sweeter than wine." Jamila looked over at her neighbor, into the blue eyes crinkled with age and the gentle smile gracing the lined face. The girl could tell the old woman was not afraid.

_But why should she?_ Jamila couldn't help but think with a little bitterness. _If this is a mistake, what does it matter? She's close to the end anyway._

Berlin spoke once more. "My family, it is time. Remember what our book has taught us. Life in this miserable, crumbling world has been a test. Who has the courage to sacrifice everything they have for the truth? Who has the faith to accept Najarro's plan? As I look out at all of you, so brave, so faithful, I know the answer. Now," he concluded, holding up his cup, "We will drink together, we will sleep, and we will wake up in a place more beautiful than is humanly possible to imagine. My family – I will see you soon."

"See you soon," the members echoed in unison. And they began to drink.

Jamila stared into the cup again. She raised her eyes to the ceiling in prayer. _Please, _she thought. _Please make my family understand why I've done this. Please let me see them again._

Before she could have any second thoughts, she brought the cup to her lips and swallowed the drink. She began to hear coughing and heaving around her. She looked around, watching her neighbors shake and fall around her.

Everything was getting blurry. It was becoming nothing but shapes, then soon it was just colors. Jamila's throat began to close up. She couldn't breathe, and her sweat was dripping into her eyes. She gagged and wheezed, falling forward onto the cold, dirty floor.

Her lungs felt swollen and painful in her chest. Her head felt like it was on fire. The last sensation she had was of the coldness of the floor pressing, almost soothingly, against her flaming face. Then everything was black.

It was nearly two hours later, after all of the family had died from the poisoned cocktail they drank, and after Raymond Berlin had packed up all of the money, jewelry and other valuables that his followers had donated and fled the compound, that Jamila awoke screaming, her whole body tingling in agony.

She gasped and nearly choked, as her lungs struggled to take in the air. She sat up quickly, looking around her in horror.

Everyone was dead. But she was not. She whimpered and held herself close.


	3. Chapter 2

Olivia sighed as she rubbed her wrist and once again tried to take up the pen to write. On the desk lay the three bills she had to pay: the gas and electric, the rent, and home phone. Her counterpart probably had online accounts to pay these, but not knowing the passwords, Olivia was forced to pay with the paper stubs.

She looked at the ink pen she held in her right hand. It had been years, decades really, since she had had to use one of these, and her handwriting naturally was atrocious. She knew the signature wasn't important – just from studying the case files on Walter, Peter, and her counterpart she knew that a few haphazard looped lines sufficed as identification – but she had to write legibly or the bills wouldn't be processed. And the last thing she needed was attracting attention from the others by her power being cut off or losing her apartment because the bills weren't paid.

She opened one of the drawers and managed to find her counterpart's address book. Scanning the writing, she forced herself to carefully copy the letters and thus get through the tedious task.

As she worked, she sliced another thin wafer of the Manchego cheese she'd bought from Cardullo's and laid it on a cracker. Olivia wasn't particularly impressed with it, but the fact that it was a sheep's milk cheese made it irresistible to her while shopping. After all, if she had to endure this mission and the constant threat of being caught, she might as well find something to enjoy about it.

There was a loud thud, then swearing on the other side of the wall. Olivia shut her eyes and put down her snack, thinking again of why those men were in the apartment with her.

"Don't think about it. Just don't think about it," Olivia whispered to herself. She had no reason to feel guilty. The deaf man was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And it would have jeopardized her mission and put many others in danger had she let him live. She ultimately had no choice.

She would keep telling herself that as long as she needed to. No matter how long it took.

"Ms. Dunham!" a polite voice called from outside the bedroom. Sighing, Olivia left the desk and opened the door.

The leader of the cleaning crew, a short, tubby man with vibrantly yellow hair, smiled gently at her. "We're almost finished in the bathroom, Ms. Dunham. The body has been reduced and the parts taken away, and the blood has been removed. My crew is just getting the shop vac from the van to dry the rugs and the floor."

The man spoke as pleasantly as if this were any small everyday nuisance that he might encounter; Olivia couldn't help but find it disconcerting. Nevertheless she knew it was necessary to be as polite as possible to the man. She returned his smile. "Thank you. I appreciate your help on such short notice." When the man remained where he stood, she asked, "Is there something else?"

"Yes, actually. My team and I require payment for our services. I'm not sure if Mr. Newton mentioned our price…"

"Oh yes, of course, I'm sorry. Mr. Newton didn't tell me how much it would cost, but I have my checkbook right here-"

"We don't want monetary compensation, _Agent_ Dunham," the man interrupted. "There is a specific item we would like, and unfortunately, no one can access it but you. If you would be so kind as to retrieve it for us, we would be grateful, and your debt would be paid in full."

Olivia sighed. "Where is the item, exactly?"

"Illinois. In a little town called Mahomet. We would like to have the item within the next few days, if possible."

"_Illinois_? How exactly am I supposed to go there when-"

Olivia complaint was cut short by a knock at the door. Frowning, she sidestepped the rotund man and opened the front door, expecting it was the cleaning crew bringing in the shop vac.

"Peter!" Olivia exclaimed, a little too loudly.

"Hey," the Secretary's son greeted her. "I know it's early in the morning, but you've always been an early bird, and I wanted to see you were up for…breakfast." Peter lagged on the last word as he watched two uniformed men walk into Olivia's apartment with a wet/dry vacuum and cleaning cloths.

Olivia thought quickly. "Really bad sewage back up in my bathroom over the weekend," she told him. "I woke up and it was just a mess. Maintenance has been here for a while, cleaning it up."

Just then, the blonde haired man stepped up to Olivia. "We're almost done here, Miss. Probably another half-hour. I left a summary of the work on your kitchen counter. You'll want to take a look at it." The man gave her a pointed look as he left the apartment.

Olivia turned to Peter with a remorseful look. "Sorry, but it looks like this morning isn't good for me. Can I call you later?"

"Yeah, sure," Peter told her. "Whenever you have time."

After Peter left, Olivia took up the "work order" and reviewed it. The large man had been precise in what he wanted; he gave the address and an exact time and date when Olivia needed to be there to retrieve the item. There would be someone there to collect the item from her once she had accessed it.

Once the cleaning crew had finally finished removing any traces of the man Joe and had left, Olivia immediately called Newton.

"What the hell did you set me up for?" she barked at the shapeshifter. "You assured me that the crew you were sending over were on our side."

"No, I said they were associates of ours," Newton corrected her in his calm, condescending way that Olivia loathed. "But they're from this side. They get us things when we need, provide services when we need. It is a very small favor that they require."

"If it's so small, why don't you do it then?" Olivia argued. "You were the one who screwed up, hiring that crew to steal the box." A frightening though flew through her mind. "How can I even know that the crew you sent today to clean up the mess won't screw that up too?"

"You're a stranger in a strange land, Agent Dunham. And in such a case, you must learn to trust those who know more than you." He sighed deeply into the phone, as if he were speaking to a child. Olivia had a desperate urge to beat him until he was nothing but a pile of mercury.

"Fine. But again I have to ask: why do _I_ need to retrieve the payment?"

"Because only someone from our universe can access the building; someone…fully organic. That means it's either you…or Peter Bishop. And I don't really see you being able to convince him to do that."

"Well, how you do suggest I get there? The Fringe division will probably notice when their primary investigator goes missing."

Newton chuckled. "Well, you are also our fearless leader, Agent Dunham. You'll find a way." Before Olivia could respond, he hung up.

Frustrated, Olivia returned to her counterpart's bedroom and began to seal and stamp the bills she needed to mail. Her hand passed over the brown leather address book she'd been using earlier, compelling her to look inside.

There, on the first page, was a new entry for Rachel and Ella Blake, Chicago, IL.

"No," Olivia actually said out loud. "No, there's got to be another way."

There were lots of things Olivia was willing to do for the sake of her mission. She was willing to lie to everyone about everything. She would simulate feelings for a man she didn't know to keep suspicion at bay. She was even willing to shoot an innocent man for compromising her work. But Rachel…she was another thing entirely.

There was, of course, the pragmatic dilemma. Newton's sources provided little or no information about Rachel, this Rachel. One wrong word or action, and her cover could be blown.

But there was something else. The Rachel here, she was the sister Olivia would have had if not for the terrible condition that took her life and her child's life. Olivia felt a strange respect for that, for this universe allowing her sister and her child to live.

Having no one here to talk to, to reassure her, Olivia tried to remember what Secretary Bishop had told her before sending her here. _They're our doubles, alternate version of ourselves, but don't be deceived, Olivia. They're monsters in our skin. They'll do anything, say anything to gain our trust, but they can't be trusted. _

Finally, Olivia had to make the choice. She needed the pretense for leaving for a while, and a visit to her sister was ideal. Besides, Mahomet was only a two and a half hour drive from Chicago. She could rent a car, drive out there, get the item, and fly back to Boston the same day, no problem.

She dialed the number, waited as the phone rang. She hoped for the answering machine. She didn't want to…"

"Hello?"

Olivia felt her heart seemed to skip a beat at the voice on the other end. It was a voice she'd once accepted that she would never hear again.

"H-hi. Hey. It's Liv."

"Liv! Oh my God, where have you been? We've been worried sick about you since we visited you last and you went on that case. Is everything all right? You're not hurt, are you? Do you need me to come up and see you?"

Olivia had to smile at Rachel's over-caring. It was the same way that her own sister did when they were growing up. Rachel had been the sensitive, girly one, but she was the mothering one too. It was no surprise that she'd gotten married and had a child first.

But Olivia straightened herself and remembered why she had called. "I'm fine, Rach, really. Actually, I was wondering if you and Ella would be up for a visit in the next couple of days. I know it's really short notice, but—"

"Are you kidding? Absolutely!" Rachel interrupted with gusto. "Ella will be pumped to see her Aunt Liv."

"Oh that's great," Olivia replied, hoping the lack of enthusiasm hadn't seeped into her voice. She hadn't fully prepared herself for seeing Rachel's daughter. Of all the people in her counterpart's life, Ella was the one who she'd been briefed on the least. And she certainly couldn't ask Peter for information.

"So how long are you staying?"

"Probably about four days. Work has been crazy so I don't know if I can take off any more than that."

Rachel told Olivia that she understood, and to send her flight information. She promised that she and Ella would be there to meet her.

After Olivia hung up the phone, she called Broyles and told him about her plans. She mailed the bills, stopped off at the market and bought some salads and sandwiches for lunch, then drove to Peter and Walter's house.

The house seemed quiet and dark. Olivia peered in, puzzled. "Hello?" she called and knocked. Trying the door knob, she found it was unlocked. Cautiously she entered. "Hello? Peter? Walter? It's Olivia."

Worried now, Olivia left the foyer and peered into the kitchen, which was warm with the stove being on. She could smell something cooking.

Olivia began to turn back to the foyer. And there was Walter, standing behind her.

She yelped, not just from the surprise, but from the fact that the older man was naked, clad only in furry slippers and holding a spatula.

"Olivia, dear! I didn't know you were coming over," Walter greeted her pleasantly.

"Walter! Good God, what the hell are you doing?" Olivia snapped as she tried to look away.

"Oh, well today is my day to cook in the all. It makes you feel alive to really _feel_ the meal with your whole body. Clothes get in the way, don't you think?" He saw the bags she was holding. "You brought lunch? What a lovely gesture. I hope it's nothing too fibrous. I'm already making my chicken burritos and black bean soup."

Olivia smiled as pleasantly as possible. "Is Peter here?"

"Unfortunately not. He decided to run some errands. Would you like to wait for him?"

Olivia took a quick glance and saw that Walter had now put on a green and yellow apron with the words "Undomestic Goddess" stitched in pink on the front.

_This man is Secretary Bishop's genetic double? Really?_ She thought to herself.

Keeping her eyes down, Olivia tentatively walked into the kitchen. "Uh, no Walter. Actually I was just coming to tell you and Peter that I'm going to be out of town for a few days. I'm going to visit Rachel and Ella."

"Oh how wonderful! Please give Rachel my best, and…tell Ella I'm sorry for eating all of her snacks and talking about weird stuff the last time we met."

"I'll do that," Olivia told him. "Here. You and Peter can have this for dinner…if there's any room after the chicken burritos." She laid the bags from the market on the counter, and began to leave, making sure to keep her head down.

"Olivia? You're not staying for lunch?" Walter walked into the foyer, dripping oil from the spatula onto his apron.

Olivia spared him the briefest of glances before answering wryly, "I'm sorry, Walter, but for some odd reason, I've lost my appetite."

"Oh. Must be some sort of stomach virus."

"Must be," she said, waving to Walter as she left.

As Olivia made her way to her car, Peter was coming up the path with a few bags.

"Hey," he said, kissing her cheek. "What are you doing here?"

"Well I was going to have lunch with you and Walter, but…um…."

Peter's eyes grew wide with realization. "Oh geez. I forgot. He's naked, isn't he?"

"Very much so. Mainly I was just coming to tell you guys I'm going to be away for the week. I'm going to see Rachel and Ella."

"That's pretty short notice, isn't it? I mean, you haven't been planning this for a while, have you?"

Olivia thought quickly. "No, it's…well, since we got back from over there, I haven't really made time for her. You know, to tell her that everything's okay. Truthfully, I was just calling to say hi and she just seemed so worried I feel like – like I need to go see her, you know? To show her I'm okay."

Peter nodded. "I guess this is part of getting that new perspective on things, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." She pulled him against her. "I'll miss you. I'll try to stay in touch, but Rachel and I were talking about taking Ella on a couple of day trips for the last couple of days."

Peter's eyes crinkled in that way that Olivia was beginning to find charming. "I'll miss you too. Don't worry about us. We'll keep everything going until you get back."

Later that evening, after making her flight arrangements and packing her bags, Olivia lay in her counterpart's bed and stared up at the ceiling. She was having trouble sleeping and the loneliness of the living situation was finally beginning to wear on her. She was used to feeling Frank's warmth next to her, used to talking to him until they both were too tired to keep going. Olivia began to realize that there were things in her life she'd taken for granted.

She shut her eyes tightly. She didn't want to think about Rachel and having to pretend that she was her sister. She didn't want to think about the little girl she was going to have to pretend to love. Instead, she forced her mind to think of the mission afterwards, to Mahomet.

_What is it?_ She thought to herself as she began to drift off. _What's the thing that's waiting for me, only me?_


	4. Chapter 3

_Allbany, New York_

Olivia stared up at the white brick building they were approaching. The day wasn't cold, but she definitely felt a chill as Charlie brought the truck to a stop in front of the driveway, where several other New York state police cars were now parked.

"How many again, Charlie?" she asked him.

"Seventy seven in all. Of course, if would have been seventy nine if Berlin hadn't taken off, and…our possible case subject…" Charlie trailed off.

Lincoln's mottled face appeared between Olivia and Charlie from the back seat. "Nothing like a little suicide cult investigation to put you in a great mood," he teased.

Olivia smirked, but she felt dread like a cold hard ball inside of her. It wasn't death itself that bothered her; she'd certainly seen her share of it investigating Fringe events. But there was the outrageousness of it, of strange ways of dying that somehow kept her mind off the loss of life and forced her to gravitate on the root cause. These people killed themselves. She knew that part of it was the cult mindset, the belief that they were attaining spiritual enlightenment. But there was the underlying reason behind it: these people were desperate, lost. They had given up hope living in a world that was constantly threatening to tear itself apart.

"Carlito!" a familiar voice called out, rousing Olivia out of her thoughts. The Fringe team turned to see Cesar Maldonado, the chief investigator for the Allbany Police Department, sprinting toward them.

Charlie clasped his cousin around the shoulders briefly and smiled. "Cesar. Don't these mass suicides happen more often than not? Why did you need Fringe?"

Cesar's mischievous eyes twinkled. "Who said I needed you? I was just looking for another chance to see this young lady." He flashed his most charming smile at Olivia.

She blushed and held out her hand. "Hi Cesar. Good to see you again."

Cesar took the hand that was offered and kissed it. "Hello, Roja."

A sharp clearing of a throat alerted Cesar to the presence of someone else who was less than amused. Cesar straightened and smiled at Lincoln. "Linc. You're looking very…pink."

Olivia and Charlie couldn't help but smile at Cesar's backhanded compliment. For some reason, Lincoln disliked Cesar and his flirtatious ways. Especially when he was flirting with Olivia.

Charlie, used to having to defuse tense situations involving his cousin since childhood, turned the attention back to the case. "So what happened? What's the story with this cult?"

"They call themselves 'the last family'. One of these end-of-days cults that insist the vortexes and amber means that Armageddon is coming."

"Even though it's been happening for decades," Lincoln pointed out cynically. "God supposedly created the world in six days; you'd think it wouldn't take this long to destroy it."

"And cults like these have been around for hundreds of years, even before all these events started happening," Olivia added.

"That's people for you. They need something to believe in, no matter how insane it is." Charlie reasoned. "So? Take us to the big show."

Cesar led the team to the building's interior, and Olivia felt the chill she'd felt before return, only stronger this time. The piercing florescent bulbs built into the ceiling provided stark, sickly lighting to the conditions. It looked like a refugee camp with its masses of sleeping bags and blankets. There were two soap-scum-crusted sinks that sat on each side of the large room, each paired with a toilet.

"Jesus. These people did everything together, even use the bathroom," Lincoln murmured to her.

"It used to be a warehouse facility for a paper factory," Cesar explained. "Raymond Berlin purchased it in '09, and started his recruiting. Fortunately for us, there was a hidden camera feed that was never disabled. Apparently Berlin liked to keep a close eye on his 'family'.

"But he was stupid enough not to disable the feed before he took off after poisoning all of his followers," Cesar added. "We recovered the footage. I just sent it to Carlito's palm."

Charlie opened the electronic pad and Lincoln and Olivia gathered around him to watch it.

They watched the efficient manner in which the poison was distributed. Row by row, the people, the young and the old, took the Styrofoam cups. They watched as they grabbed their throats, gasping and convulsing as the poison closed off their airways and stopped their hearts from pumping.

Several minutes passed and the seventy eight people were still lying there, motionless. Frowning, Olivia looked up at Cesar. "What are we-"

"Patience, Roja. It's coming."

They waited as the palm sped up the footage until two hours of real time had passed. Finally, they watched as one of the limp bodies, a young, dark girl, jumped up from the ground, her mouth stretched wide open in a terrified scream. She took in the dead bodies lying around her and curled up into a ball, rocking herself in shock for nearly a minute. Finally she got up, looked around wildly, and bolted out of the building.

Olivia looked up from the screen. "Obviously she didn't get the same stuff the rest of them did."

"They all got cups of the same stuff from the same pitcher," Lincoln argued. "You saw it, Liv."

"So what did they all drink?" Charlie asked.

"We sent samples of the liquid to our local lab. Our techs should have the results by now," Cesar replied, motioning for them to follow him out of the warehouse.

Lincoln and Charlie followed quickly behind, Olivia being the last to leave. Just before she reached the threshold, she saw someone out of the corner of her eye. She turned and there was the Secretary's son, Peter Bishop. He was simply standing there, hands in the pockets of his faded dark jeans, gazing at her with a knowing, almost smug smile on his face.

Olivia stopped in her tracks, glaring at him in irritation. She knew he wasn't there – not really. His presence reminded her, once again, that her breakdown had been real. And what was worse, she hadn't recovered from it completely.

"Liv?"

Olivia turned to see Lincoln's scarred face peering in at her from the yard. "What's wrong? Did you see something?"

"Oh! Uh no, no, I…"

Lincoln held up his hand. "Say no more. I know." He looked around the warehouse, at the bodies covered in the white sheets, being prepared for transport. "Who would have ever thought vortexes and sewer monsters would be less scary than suicide?"

Olivia glanced at the spot where she'd seen Peter, hiding her relief when she found he was gone. "Yeah. Exactly."

* * *

><p>Back at Fringe headquarters, the three agents and Detective Maldonado gathered around the Science Desk, taking in the projection of the chemical structure of the liquid the cult members drank.<p>

"_Atropa belladonna_. Also called 'Deadly Nightshade'," the Fringe science consultant, a tall, gawky prodigy named Allen, told them. "It's an oldie but a goodie, in terms of an efficient poison, that is. You drink enough of this stuff, in a concentrated enough amount, and you're a goner."

"What did you mean when you said, 'oldie'?" Charlie asked.

Allen looked at him sharply from his glasses placed low on his nosebridge. "It's a very old poison, dating back to the Middle Ages-"

"Women used it to dilate their pupils, which were considered attractive. _Belladonna_ – 'beautiful lady'," Lincoln interjected. "Sorry, Allen," he added sheepishly.

The scientist cleared his throat sharply and continued. "Anyway, the belladonna plant isn't extinct, but it hasn't been seen in decades. This would be quite an efficient way to kill since it's so rare. A less knowledgeable scientist may have overlooked it – fortunately for you, I have an encyclopedia-like reserve of knowledge on poisons."

Olivia, Lincoln, and Charlie exchanged a mutual look of amusement. "And we're grateful for it, Allen. Thank you." She turned to Lincoln. "Have we identified the girl in the video yet?"

"We have. Jamila Rose, from Manhatan, 14 years old. Reported missing two weeks ago by her parents." Lincoln handed her a palm pad with photo of the girl.

Olivia studied it briefly, noting the sad look in the girl's pretty black eyes. "Gone from her home for only two weeks and she got herself involved in a cult."

Cesar appeared over Olivia's shoulder. "No doubt they'd gotten to her weeks, maybe even only days before, Roja. These cults know how to appeal to children who feel lonely and misunderstood."

Olivia looked back at Cesar with a half-hearted smile. "Well, let's find the parents and see what their take on Jamila is."

"We've already informed them. They're on their way."

"Good." Olivia walked over to the Statistics Center, where Astrid was, in her usual fashion, furiously processing data. She turned to Lincoln and Charlie, who were already looking over the information Astrid had provided. "Whaddya got, Astrid?"

Avoiding Olivia's eyes, Astrid gave her report. "Based on the fact that Ms. Rose is on foot, and a 95% chance that she has no show-me and no money, I calculate a 75% chance that she is still in Allbany, and a 89% chance that she's still in New York state."

"I like those odds. Are they guaranteed?" Cesar asked Astrid with a wink. The young agent just barely lifted her eyes to the detective and then quickly looked away with a blush.

"Primo, we have a saying around here," Charlie replied for Astrid. "There are three things in life that you can count on: death, taxes, and Astrid Farnsworth's calculations."

"I'm receiving Allen's report on the poison that was served to the members of The Last Family," Astrid piped up, deftly turning the attention away from her. "Based on the amount of the poison and the concentration, as well as Jamila Rose's approximate weight, I calculate a 9% chance that she could have survived imbibing the belladonna."

"But we saw her wake up and run away," Olivia argued. "Assuming that Jamila Rose drank the same poison as the others, how could she survive that?"

Cesar nodded. "And that's why I called you people in."

"Excuse me, Agent Lee?" a clerk called to Lincoln. "Mr. and Mrs. Jabbur are here."

* * *

><p>"So she is alive?" Mrs. Jabbur asked Charlie and Olivia hopefully. She was a pale brunette with watery grey eyes. Her milky skin was a stark contrast to her husband's olive complexion and robust black beard.<p>

"We believe so, Mrs. Jabbur. The camera footage we were able to obtain clearly shows her getting up and running away from the scene," Olivia assured the couple.

The couple clasped hands in relief. "Thank God," Mr. Jabbur said. "Do you know where she is now?"

"No. We've sent out a bulletin to all of our agencies, as well as posted her information to our hotline," Charlie replied with a warm smile. "We're going to do everything we can to bring her home."

The couple smiled gratefully, but an awkward silence followed. Finally, Mrs. Jabbur spoke up. "I know what you're probably wondering about. Why is Jamila's last name "Rose" instead of "Jabbur?"

Olivia smiled uneasily. "I have an inkling of why. Jamila was starting school just after September 11th, wasn't she?"

Mr. Jabbur nodded gravely. "We had her last name legally changed to my wife's middle name right before she entered school. We felt that…that it might be just a little easier for her to attend school if her heritage wasn't so apparent."

"Mr. Jabbur, Mrs. Jabbur, why did Jamila leave home two weeks ago? Did you have a fight? Was she unhappy at school?" Olivia asked.

"All of the above," Jamila's father told them. "Jamila has always been a sad child. Every time a vortex would open, every time a neighborhood would have to be ambered, she'd fall into a deep depression for days. It's like…she takes all the grief of the world onto herself. Two weeks ago, she'd read about the opera house in New York City being ambered, and she told us she was too sad to go to school – too sad because there would never be another note of music played in the building."

Mrs. Jabbur laid a comforting hand on her husband's arm. "It was my fault. I forced her to go. I told her that – that she was being ridiculous. I was so…thoughtless in my words, I'd forgotten how sensitive she was. She packed up her books and ran out of the house without another word. I thought she'd gone to school. It wasn't until the end of the day, when she didn't come home for dinner, that we realized she was gone."

"Do you know of anyone Jamila could have gone to stay with after she left the compound? Any friends from school? Relatives?" Charlie asked.

Mr. Jabbur shook his head. "We've spoken to all of our relatives in the area, and none of them have seen her. And…to be perfectly honest, Jamila didn't really have too many close friends. Oh, it wasn't her depression. She kept people at arm's length. She didn't want to get too close to anyone, because she was afraid that they'd end up being taken away from her."

Olivia turned from Mr. Jabbur to his wife, noticing now the blank look on her face. "Mrs. Jabbur. Are you all right?"

The lady turned her pale eyes slowly to Olivia. "It was my fault. I forced her to go. I told her that – that she was being ridiculous. I was so thoughtless in my words-"

"Honey, honey, it's all right," Mr. Jabbur said quickly, snatching up his wife's hand and squeezing it. Olivia and Charlie exchanged a mutual look of puzzlement.

"I think that's all for now, Mr. and Mrs. Jabbur," Olivia told them, walking them out of the room. "We will certainly be in touch the moment we know something."

The couple began to walk out of the room, but then Mrs. Jabbur stopped, turned around, and looked around the room. Mr. Jabbur laid his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her to the door. "Come on, hon. Time to go home."

Once the Jabburs had left, Charlie motioned at the mirror set against the far wall. Cesar joined them a moment later.

"Well," Cesar began, sitting on the top of the table, facing Olivia and completely ignoring Charlie, "What did you think?"

"Something's wrong with the mother. That was pretty clear," Olivia replied, crossing her arms. "We should look into that."

"Meanwhile, Jamila is still out there," Charlie pointed out. "She is the only survivor of Raymond Berlin's crime. She's the only one left who can testify against him."

Cesar nodded. "Precisely, Primo. We need to find her before anyone else does."

* * *

><p>The water felt wonderful. Warm, and hard, and all for her. She allowed it to race over her body, to course over her. She gathered handfuls of it and threw it on her face.<p>

She didn't use soap. She didn't want to have anything take away from the feeling of the water. And besides, she didn't like the smell of the soap that was in the shower. It was too spicy, too heavy in its aroma.

Finally, she'd had enough and she shut off the water, wrapping a long, fluffy towel around herself and stepping out onto the gleaming white tiles that adorned the floor. She felt wonderful. Renewed, refreshed. All adding to this new life of hers.

Then she felt something oily against her big toe. She frowned, starting down at it. It was a deep red drop of liquid. Jamila sighed and allowed her eyes to follow the trail that led to the living room.

She forced herself to look over at the limp body of the man, lying on the bedroom floor. The knife she'd plunged into his chest was still in its resting place.

She'd taken him by surprise, and because of that, he made very little noise. She was able to finish her work and shower without interruption.

Jamila looked in the closet, at the few articles of clothing hanging inside. The clothes would be too big for her, obviously, but she managed to make a makeshift outfit from a shirt, shorts, and a belt she found. She put on three layers of socks to protect her feet, took what money was in the man's wallet, and quietly left the hotel room – into a new world where life and death had no meaning.


	5. Chapter 4

If she hadn't been so nervous about seeing Rachel and Ella, Olivia might have actually had room to be unnerved at the feeling that she was being watched.

She sat tensely in her seat on the plane, staring straight ahead. She was frantically trying to remember all of the facts that the moles had been able to gather for her, and all of the information she managed to dig up around her counterpart's home. Some of the facts were familiar; Rachel went to the same high school. Her wedding anniversary was the same in this universe as in the other – and she married the same guy. She got pregnant at the same time.

But then there were the differences, and not the superficial ones that differed from their childhood. Rachel had lived seven more years over here. She'd done things and seen things that had naturally changed her. But in Olivia's mind, Rachel was still the same young woman excited to be starting a family. As morose as it sounded, Olivia's mind kept Rachel as still being pregnant, still round and healthy and glowing. But this Rachel wasn't that woman. And Olivia's sister would haven been someone new and changed as well.

"First time on a plane?" a voice said. Olivia turned to look at the man sitting across the aisle from her. Tall, slight and balding, he looked perfectly harmless. Appearances could be deceiving, however. Her guard had been up the whole trip. Still, Olivia smiled politely at him.

"No. But I'm not fond of them," she replied. It was the truth. On her world, jets were only used for extended, international trips or emergency situations involving national security – when speed was necessary. If she were home, she'd be flying on a zeppelin. The gondola section was definitely more comfortable and offered more of a view than this plane's cabin. And, they actually served food too.

The man returned the smile sympathetically. "Well, you've made it this far. You're almost there, right?" he asked before returning to his crossword puzzle.

Olivia gave an amiable nod, but her smile quickly dissipated as she scrutinized the man's homely profile. What if he worked for Newton? Checking up on her, ready to report any weakness or faltering on her part?

Olivia closed her eyes and leaned back against her seat. She was being paranoid. Of course she was. But it didn't help that the one ally she had over here she actually disliked more than the people that were supposed to be her enemies. She reminded herself that right now, none of them were there. She was enjoying a visit with her sister and niece.

For the next four days.

* * *

><p>The plane landed at O'Hare right on time. Taking a deep breath, Olivia made her way out of the plane and down to the baggage claim, where she and Rachel had agreed to meet.<p>

People flowed around her like water. Faces unfamiliar and fuzzy as Olivia frantically searched for them. The sounds of the airport were distracting. Shouts of recognition, laughter. The loudspeaker blaring and repeating as it was announced that the 1019 from Tampa had been moved from carousel D-4 to E-7. People pushing against her, sliding past her.

Olivia wanted to see them first. It might only be a second or two of lead time, but nonetheless time to prepare herself. She turned around in a circle, looking for them. She was about to reach into her bag and pull out her cellphone when she felt a tug on her jacket.

She jumped slightly, turning around to see a beautiful blonde little girl clinging to her. "Aunt Liv!" the girl piped up.

Olivia's arms went around the child automatically, as if it were something she did every day. "Hi honey."

Ella giggled shyly. "We got here too early. We've been waiting half an hour for you."

Olivia smiled sheepishly. "Where's your mother?"

Just then, a voice called out from several feet away. "Ella! What did I tell you about running off?"

Olivia turned in the direction of the voice, her smile fading quickly. There she was. Dark eyes shining with purpose, blonde hair bouncing freely around her shoulders. A frown of irritation easily being replaced with a grin of joy. Arms flying up and apart, ready to embrace.

Rachel had Olivia in her arms before Olivia even knew it. Squeezing her shoulders in that old familiar way, engulfing her in the smell of her vanilla perfume. Swaying her from side to side in girlish glee.

_She's not your sister, she's not her_, Olivia thought as she gave herself to the embrace, forcing the tears to stay away from the precipice of her lashes.

Then, mercifully, the embrace was over. Rachel was looking at her head. "Liv? You've changed your hair!"

Olivia chuckled nervously, running her hand over the short fringe of blonde hair on her forehead. "Oh, yeah…I decided to do something a little different."

"I don't like it," Ella piped up. The two women looked down at the miniature, blunt critic.

"Ella! Don't be rude," Rachel admonished her.

"Oh, that's okay. She has a right to her opinion," Olivia said with a gracious smile.

"You're too diplomatic, Liv. In any case, I think it's very chic. Come on, let's get your bags and get you home."

As Rachel and Ella walked off, Olivia lagged slightly behind them, taking them in. Is this what her sister and her daughter would have been like, had they lived?

As Olivia stood by the carousel, watching the clusters of suitcases lazily flow past her, she remembered a particular day seven years ago, when Rachel was pregnant, and Olivia didn't have a hole in her heart…

* * *

><p>Rachel had painted the nursery a bright yellow. There were appliques of clouds and rainbows on the wall. The pieces of furniture that had been bought at that point – a crib, a changing table, and a bookshelf – were all wood painted white. Rachel was putting a couple of nursery rhyme books on the bookshelf, her long floral dress brushing the carpet. "So?" she asked with her back turned to Liv, "What do you think?"<p>

"I thought you were going with pink. Why yellow? It's…it's like the room's made out of custard." Olivia gave her sister a teasing, good natured smile.

Rachel turned around with an annoyed look. "It's called 'sunburst,' I'll have you know. And yes, I was going to go with pink, but I thought that somehow, yellow would be cheerier."

"Fair enough. So, what's left to do?"

"Just have to get a rocking chair. There's an adorable one I saw at a store on Lexington with Mom the other day, but it's really expensive. I think I'll wait."

Olivia made a mental note to herself to talk to her mother about it, possibly sharing the cost of it together and make it one of their baby shower presents. She quickly changed the subject to deflect Rachel's suspicion. "So, how's Greg doing with all of this?"

"Oh…you know. He's happy about the baby coming, but…" Rachel trailed off, seeming to immerse herself in folding a purple bunny quilt,

Olivia frowned. "But what?" she gently pressed.

Rachel looked over at her sister soberly. "Nothing. Really, Liv – nothing." She smiled and put her hand to her jutting belly. "You know, I think this baby is going to be a new beginning for us. I think Greg and I are finally going to put away our petty differences and it's going to be about love for a change. Just love this time, nothing else."

And then Olivia's red Pullman suitcase was floating by. Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she pulled it off of the metal belt, informed her counterpart's family that she retrieved her bag, and followed them to their car.

* * *

><p>On the way to their house, Rachel filled the empty space with tales of her family's exploits in their new hometown, which, fortunately for Olivia, required very little listener participation. Olivia merely had to give a chuckle or some other appropriate reaction to Rachel and Ella's stories. They hardly asked her about her work; Olivia had to assume that her double had informed her family long ago that she couldn't talk about what she did on a day to day basis for the FBI. This was, of course, in stark contrast to the Fringe division on her world. Everyone knew about Fringe and what they did. Statistically, 1 in every 3 American civilians had a family member, friend, or some other close acquaintance who worked for the agency, and so if they didn't hear about the superficial details about a case from their loved one, they'd definitely hear about it on the evening news.<p>

As Olivia was listening to Rachel tell the story of her last PTA meeting at Ella's school, she caught a glimpse of a car, following a little too closely behind Rachel's dark blue SUV. It was matching Rachel's speed and direction, putting on a turn signal at a half-second after her, changing lanes exactly when she was.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the driver's features in the passenger side mirror. Unfortunately Rachel was driving so fast the scene was too much of a blur for her. Obviously she couldn't tell Rachel to slow down without inviting some concern. She kept a close watch on the car, and the exact distance they were traveling.

"How much farther till we're there?" Olivia asked as nonchalantly as she could.

As Rachel was trying to answer, Ella quickly hijacked the conversation and gave her expert advice on where they were and how much farther they had to go. Olivia couldn't help but smile at the little girl. She was at that age where she wanted to have all the answers and to be treated like one of the adults.

Rachel gave Olivia a look of slight exasperation at her daughter's chatter, but she did confirm that what Ella was saying was true: they were nearing their neighborhood and were just about five miles away.

Olivia turned her eyes to the sight of the old Cadillac, still following behind. The car was closer now, close enough that Olivia could just make out the features of the driver. It was a man, with short dark hair and olive skin, but that didn't help. It could have been anyone, even Charlie, if he grew his hair out. She allowed her fingers to rest on her gun, preparing herself to fire if she had to.

Finally they came to a stop in front of a pleasant-looking white and black rancher in a well-manicured neighborhood. Rachel turned to Olivia with a smile. "Home sweet home!"

Rachel and Ella got out of the car, but Olivia lagged behind. She watched from the rearview mirror as the Cadillac stopped at the top of the street, then made a sharp right turn and left the neighborhood. Her nails dug into the upholestery. He had been watching them.

Rachel leaned in at the passenger window with a concerned smile. "Liv? Are you coming?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah, sorry," Olivia replied, taking up her bag and following Rachel into the house. She spared one last glance behind her to see if the car was there, but it was not. She exhaled and went in.

It was incredible. It wasn't the same house, or the same state, or even the same world – but nearly every detail of the home Olivia's sister had shared with her husband had been copied in this one. The same shade of the drapes and sofas, the same carved wooden figures on the bookshelves and tables, the same paintings on the walls. Even the carpet beneath Olivia's feet had the same plush feeling to it. Olivia stared at the living room, heedless if her mouth was open from shock.

Without being asked Olivia walked into the kitchen that was set off to the right. Granted, the kitchen was to the left in the other house, but it was amazing. Same appliances chosen, the same granite countertops and gleaming white cabinets. The only difference was the colorful artwork that adorned the stainless steel fridge. Ella's efforts – never to be found anywhere else.

As she took it all in, she felt a hand rest on her shoulder. "Do you like it?" Rachel asked. Olivia turned around, speechless.

"What is it, Liv? You don't like it?" she asked Olivia with a frown.

Olivia recovered herself. "No, it's not that. It's…beautiful, Rach. I'm so proud of you."

Rachel wrapped an arm around Olivia's waist and led her back out to the living room. "Come on, sis. You must be tired from that trip. Let me show you your room."

The guest room was a deep blue – it reminded Olivia of the shade her mother had wanted to paint her kitchen, at first. That was the first thing that Olivia noticed about it. The second thing was Ella was already in the room, playing with a porcelain doll.

"Ella, sweetie, be careful with her," Rachel warned her daughter about the doll, taking it away from her and handing it to Olivia with a smile. "Here. I bet you thought I forgot, but I didn't."

Olivia took the doll with a short smile. She had no idea what Rachel was talking about. A spark of fear ran down her spine as she looked blankly at the doll's painted features and black ringlets. She knew she had to say something. "Thanks, Rach. It means a lot," she decided to reply.

Ella gave her mother a puzzled look, but Rachel took the girl's hand and said, "Greg will be home in an hour or so. I thought we could all go out to dinner when he gets back."

"Yeah! That sounds good. Um…I think I might just freshen up," Olivia replied.

"Absolutely. Come on, Ella." The two of them left the room, shutting the door behind them.

Olivia sat on the edge of the bed once the door was shut. She hadn't had a terribly long day, but she was feeling tired. It took a great deal of energy to be someone else, to contain the fear of being found out.

She was about to lie back and close her eyes when her phone rang. Standing immediately, she pulled it out of her pocket and read the illuminated face. It was Newton.

"Just wanted to see how the little family reunion was going," he purred to her.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Not that it's any of your business, but it's fine. You certainly didn't need to send one of your chromosomally-challenged goons to follow me."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "What are you talking about?" he finally asked.

"Don't play dumb with me. I saw the Cadillac that was following Rachel Blake's car. Stay out of things that don't concern you, I'm warning you."

Newton chuckled. "I think being out of your comfort zone is playing tricks on you, Dunham. I have better things to do than to squander my resources on following you around. My only concern is that you show up at the agreed place and time on Sunday. I have no doubts that you will, of course. Have a good evening."

Olivia slowly brought the cell phone away from her ear. Setting it down on the bed, she walked over to the window and looked out at the green lawns and neatly set little houses. The car she'd seen was nowhere in sight. There was a faint ringing noise, and Olivia watched a couple of children on bicycles ride past, their laughter high and sharp.

"This should have been Rachel's," Olivia said softly to herself. Sighing, she crossed her arms and went back to the bed. That Cadillac was just a coincidence, she realized now. It was stress of being here. She just needed to make it through the next four days.

* * *

><p>He waited long after the family had gone into the house to drive down the road. He slowed down in front of the rancher and took a good look at it. The Fringe agent had seen him; he was sure of that. He'd have to approach her carefully, because there was no telling how she would take his presence.<p>

He had debated on whether or not to tell her the truth when they finally met, but at last he decided he would. After all, they were both from another universe – strangers in a strange land.


End file.
